Page 2 of Stuffed

Jax studies me a moment longer before he smiles a panty-dropping smile and guides me through the bustling kitchen, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. The heat of his touch seeps through the thin fabric of my blouse, igniting a slow burn beneath my skin. He introduces me to his staff, a well-oiled machine of sous chefs and prep cooks, each focused intently on their tasks.

"So, Claire," Jax says, turning to face me with a playful glint in his eye. "I hear you've got some strong opinions about the perfect Thanksgiving menu."

I arch a brow, meeting his gaze head-on. "I believe in honoring tradition while elevating the classics. It's all about striking the right balance."

He leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "And let me guess, you like to be in control of every little detail?"

I feel a flush creeping up my neck, but I refuse to back down. "I prefer to think of it as having a vision and executing it flawlessly."

Jax chuckles, the sound low and intimate. "Well, I hope you're ready to relinquish a little of that control, Claire. Because in my kitchen, we play by my rules."

The way my name rolls off his tongue sends a shiver down my spine. There's a challenge in his words, a promise of something thrilling and unknown. I find myself leaning into him, drawn by an inexplicable force.

"And what exactly are your rules, Chef Donovan?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darken, the air between us electric with tension. "Rule number one: trust your instincts. Rule number two: take risks. And rule number three..." He pauses, his gaze dropping to my lips. "Always save room for dessert."

My heart hammers against my ribcage, the implication of his words causing heat to pool low in my belly. Jax steps back, the moment broken but the intensity still simmering beneath the surface.

"Now, let's talk turkey," he says with a wink, gesturing to the prep station behind him. "I've got some ideas that will make your taste buds sing."

As we dive into the Thanksgiving menu planning, Jax's enthusiasm is infectious. He moves around the kitchen with a fluid grace, his hands gesturing animatedly as he describes his vision for each dish. I find myself drawn into his world, captivated by the passion that radiates from him.

"I've been experimenting with a new stuffing recipe," Jax says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's a twist on the classic, with chestnuts, pancetta, and a hint of sage."

He reaches for a bowl of the fragrant mixture, holding it out for me to sample. I lean in, inhaling the heady aroma of toasted bread and savory herbs. Jax watches me intently, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"May I?" I ask, my fingers hovering over the bowl.

"Be my guest," he replies, his voice low and inviting.

I pluck a morsel from the bowl and bring it to my lips, my eyes fluttering closed as the flavors explode on my tongue. The stuffing is a perfect balance of texture and taste, the chestnuts providing a subtle sweetness that complements the salty pancetta and earthy sage.

"Jax, this is incredible," I breathe, my eyes opening to meet his gaze.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "I'm glad you approve. I put a lot of thought into the...stuffing."

The way he says "stuffing," with a slight pause and a mischievous glint in his eye, sends a rush of heat through my body. I feel my cheeks flush, and I know it has nothing to do with the warm kitchen.

Jax's smile widens, clearly enjoying the effect he has on me. "I hope you'll like my stuffing as much as I enjoy making it for you, Claire."

His words are laced with innuendo, the double entendre hanging heavily in the air between us. I swallow hard, my mind conjuring up images that have no place in a professional kitchen.

"I have no doubt that I will," I manage to reply, my voice sounding breathy even to my own ears.

Jax holds my gaze a moment longer, the tension crackling like electricity. Then, with a wink, he turns back to the stove, leaving me to compose myself.

As we continue to work side by side, sampling dishes and exchanging ideas, I can't help but be hyperaware of Jax's presence. Every brush of his arm against mine, every lingering glance, sends a thrill through me. The kitchen seems to shrink, the space between us charged with unspoken desire.

The aromas of cinnamon, cloves, and roasting turkey mingle in the air, creating a heady perfume that only adds to the intoxicating atmosphere. Jax moves with a sensual confidence, his hands deftly chopping, stirring, and seasoning each dish with expert precision, Jax is in his element in the kitchen. I find myself captivated by his every move, the way his muscles flex beneath his chef's jacket as he works. He catches me staring and flashes me a knowing grin, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"See something you like, Claire?" he teases, his voice low and husky.

I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I refuse to look away. "Maybe I do," I reply, my own voice taking on a flirtatious edge.

Jax chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.

His words hang in the air, the implication clear. I feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves. This is dangerous territory, flirting with a man I barely know in his own kitchen. But there's something about Jax that draws me in, makes me want to throw caution to the wind.

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